In the Hands of the Gods
by Swevens
Summary: A young human girl with an Asgard past is summoned back to the realm of the gods to once and for all face the truth of who she is and take a stand against the enemies of Asgard...and a certain god's son. Previously on my old account, JustASmallTownSquirrel.
1. Summons

**Hi everyone, just a quick note. This story is one I had on my old account, and since I recently figured out how to log back on, I plan to transfer it over here. **

**I'm not currently working on it, but I'm hoping if I post what I already have slowly, by the time my old chapters are up, I'll have more written. No promises.**

**I hope anyone who discovers it here enjoys the story. Feedback is always welcome, whether it's about something you like or otherwise!**

Something was wrong. Angelia Langeis hadn't felt it so surely since returning home four years before. It was a bigger feeling than the time she'd been out hunting and felt a prick of unease. That was the day she'd come home to find the cabin ablaze. Today she had woken feeling the same unease, but it was far more than a little prick. The feeling hadn't gone away all morning, though she'd done her best to go about her chores as normal.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that when the small tap came at the window, she jumped up into a well-practiced stance of defense, only to find there was an abnormally small, plain sparrow tapping his beak against the pane.

Letting out a held breath, Angelia crossed the room to the window and slid open the window. The bird fluttered in as he had done almost daily since joining her long ago. It was only in the past week that her winged companion had mysteriously disappeared. She momentarily forgot her anxiety as she greeted the sparrow, busying herself with setting out a mixture of seeds on his usual perch. The bird nattered happily to her and fluffed its feathers, settling in comfortably.

It wasn't until the flurry of movement drew her eyes towards his shifting feet that she noticed the roll of paper curling around his leg.

Gently she unraveled the tiny scroll and unrolled it.

_Trouble in A_

_Meet T in N_

_Tell No One_

There was no doubt who the message had come from.

Angelia had to sit for a moment, thinking back to a time when this message never would have been necessary. She tried not to dwell on the past, knowing she couldn't change the events that had swept her up in a fantastical whirlwind that had always been an unwelcome presence in the back of her mind, events that had started on her seventeenth birthday, and ended, she had thought, with her eighteenth.

No doubt it was her self-appointed guardian summoning her, though why he would call on her now, when she was finally settling back into a normal life she couldn't guess. One thing she knew, she didn't owe him anything and if she was to comply with the directions mandated in the note, it would only be to put the aggravating man in his place so she could move on.

Later that afternoon, Angelia, trailed at a distance by the little bird, hiked to the nearest town. She took a small table at the rundown diner and ordered a small meal before excusing herself to use the phone. She let out a breath as someone answered on the other end.

"Yes," she said, keeping her voice light, "I'd like to purchase a ticket to New York. The soonest flight you have."


	2. Reunion

Less than twenty-four hours later, I land in New York City. The flight stewardess had given me the first hint of what was to come when we landed when she mentioned how unusual it was for the city to be accepting incoming traffic. It seemed that most of the passengers were CIA agents of a sort that boarded from Washington while the plane was laid over, and it was only because these men needed to get to the scene that the plane was granted access to the runway.

I didn't bring any luggage so I leave the throng of agents at the conveyor and venture out into the normally hectic city. It's strange to me, the eerie silence coating the city. Even stranger is the black smoke billowing across the skyline, drawing my attention to the ruins I stand in front of.

The entire area is unrecognizable. Cars litter the streets, many smashed and overturned. The buildings beyond were similarly destroyed. Many looked as though holes had been blasted through the center of the infrastructure, leaving half-buildings still standing. Many others had towered over and lay blocking the streets, smoke rising from the rubble.

The note hadn't said exactly where I was to meet up with '_T_' but thankfully another talent kicks in and I can feel the pulsing feeling in my brain, like a painless headache that doubles as a homing device. I know where I need to go.

As I pick through the mess, stopping occasionally to help others lift vehicles and beams off of survivors, the feeling begins to intensify, leading me through the broken city just as a hound's nose leads him to his prey.

I don't realize how out of touch I've become with my abilities until I can see my target clearly ahead. Once upon a time I would have known exactly where he stood long before I could see him.

His friends are hanging around congratulating him, no doubt having been the ones to save the rest of the world from New York's fate. I've heard of them on the news, and talked about in hushed corners but never have I seen them up close. The Avengers, they have been christened. If the man in chains is any indicator, they have indeed avenged the city.

He sees me before I call out, obviously more in touch with his senses than I am. I mentally kick myself for being so lax on mental training.

"Angel," he nods, looking as stunning as ever, even through a sheen of sweat. I've never seen a god sweat before and honestly hadn't even thought it to be a possibility. Who'd have thunk it?

"Thor," I nod back, uneasily avoiding his gaze. When our eyes do meet, I know it isn't just me who remembers the past, and it's not just me who hurts. It is times like this I wish that I couldn't read so far into emotions. The sudden raw ache takes me by surprise and I look around awkwardly at the city.

"I was told to meet you in New York," I say. Chances are he wasn't briefed on this. Odin rarely saw fit to fully inform everyone or anyone. "I don't really know that that was an accurate term for this place. It's even more of a disaster now."

"You just about missed me," he says, shifting his weight. "I assume father wanted you to be part of the council tomorrow. Rightfully, you _do_ have a chair. He will want all voices to be heard at Asgard's greatest trial to date." He pauses and gives the man at his side a hard look. "It's not every century we must decide whether to execute one of our own."

I look at the other man. Tall, though slightly shorter than Thor, the second man shares no resemblance with the man holding him securely in place. Green eyes, black hair, and a demeaning smile, it seems to me as though he is trying to unsettle me. I can't read his feelings, and that realization unsettles me more than his gaze.

There is only one other being I've met who I cannot read, and instantly I know who he is, though we've never met nor been introduced.

"Loki," I say, voicing the realization aloud. "I should have known it would be you behind such chaos."

"I don't believe we know each other," he replies coldly. "Therefor, you know nothing."

"Angelia, Loki. Loki, Angelia," Thor says, jerking his brother's arm for emphasis. "Now that we all know each other, if you don't mind, Father is expecting us."

"I mind," Loki interjects. With another jerk, Thor's meaning is clear and Loki squares his jaw in silence.

Thor throws up a portal in front of us and motions for me to go ahead. "Ladies first," he says, and so I take a breath and step back through into a life I prayed years ago to leave behind.


	3. Homecoming

Homecoming

A quick flash of blinding white light later and I am standing in another realm, blinking stupidly as I clear the light spots from my vision. I am in a dark, earthy smelling room, facing a man adorned in golden armour.

"Greetings, Gatekeeper," I say, bowing in respect.

"Ah," he says, spreading his arms in welcome. "The Angel of Asgard has at last returned. I believe the land has just increased in happiness and beauty."

I look around, taking in the dark surroundings. Last time I travelled through the Portal it was located in a golden dome out past the city boundaries. "Have you misplaced the dome?"

"The old Portal is gone," he replies, his voice heavier. "The sons of Odin battled there and it was lost."

Another flash of white light from behind me cuts off the conversation, as we are joined by Thor and Loki.

"Loki Laufeyson," he says, with a much more menacing voice. "The traitor of Asgard has returned far too soon for my liking. 'Tis good to see you well, Thor Odinson of the Asgard Great."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, my dear Gatekeeper," Loki responds, looking around in disdain. "If the council is to have their way, this may very well be the last you'll ever see of me. Would you like to take a moment to burn this memory in your mind to keep forevermore?"

Ignoring him, the Gatekeeper motions down the tunnel. "You will find this leads straight to your destination. May your hammer stay strong."

Thor, too, gives a slight bow out of deference and we move on ahead. I step back and allow Thor to bring Loki through first, the tunnel being too narrow for three of us to fit side by side.

The short walk is filled only with silence. I think to make conversation with Thor, but can think of nothing to discuss with Loki so close. I wonder what exactly Loki meant when he mentioned the council having their way. Was there to be a trial of sorts? I'd never heard of the gods trying one of their own, no matter the crime. Perhaps this one had pushed the others over the edge.

I stumble on the uneven ground, my mind in the clouds. Focussing less on thinking and more on walking, we continue up the sloping path. It seems like much more time has passed than expected when our trio comes to a stop in front of a double set of iron doors.

Thor grips his hammer in one hand and raps lighty against the door. Instantly, the metal alights with three trails of colour; green, red and blue, before it swings open to our destination; the great hall where much of the city is gathered to witness the return of two sons.

As Thor drags Loki into the room, the crowd begins to buzz, people recognizing both their golden boy and his hated counterpart.

"Enough." The command isn't yelled but carries across the room as it amplifies from the throne at the front of the throng. "I am glad to see you well," he says, and even I, hidden back in the shadows, can tell he only speaks to one.

"It is good to be home," Thor replies, bowing deeply in reverence.

"I am sure I've told you before, dear girl, it is impolite to dwell in doorways."

I step forward, furious with myself as I feel my face flush under the scrutiny of the room. Thor raises a hand and grips my shoulder for a brief moment, and with that show of solidarity, I feel myself calming. "My King," I say, resorting to a deep curtsy in front of the nobility. "I am glad to see you well." The token greeting is approved by the crowd, though it is not in the least sense original.

"Welcome home, Lady Odetta Angelia Rosa Langeis," he says, his tone soft and commanding as it draws out every syllable. "Asgard welcomes you back with warmth and light."

King Odin doesn't acknowledge the other man who has just entered the room and speaks again, directing his attention to myself and Thor.

"Tomorrow at dawn," he starts, his gaze flickering to Loki. I flicker my gaze too and see he does not meet the King's eyes, instead choosing to study the floor. Again I try to read his feelings but I find nothing. "Tomorrow at dawn, council will commence in the trial of Loki Laufeyson. With the last o the council members now present we can continue with the trial as planned."

A muscle in Loki's jaw ticked and I wonder if he fears the decision the council will come to. I have been picking up on whispers of execution since entering the room, and surely Loki hasn't been able to block out every voice.

"I would advise the council members to retire early this eve in preparation for tomorrow's events." He nods towards us again. "Naslund and Riel will show you to your chambers."

One of the King's Men, who had been standing near to the king stepped forward. "If you'll come with me, my lady, I will show you to your chambers."

Naslund, I remember, nodding my assent. He had been a guard last time I was here and was instrumental in much of my training. I follow him from the room with only a backward glance to Thor, as if to confirm I was free to leave. Though we hadn't seen each other in over four years, I found it easy to slip back into old habits. Thor nods in understanding and turns to face his father.

I don't hear anything else that is said in the banquet hall as I follow Naslund down a wide hall and up several flights of stairs.

"I had the liberty of choosing your rooms," he says, pausing at the top of all the stairs, "and I seem to remember a certain young woman's affinity for places high off the ground."

Without waiting for any form of reply, he opens the heavy wooden door to reveal a classic sitting room, complete with a large window and an already lit fireplace. I make my way straight across the room for the window and the view absolutely takes my breath away.

Far below I can see a section of the castle, as well as another turret off a little ways to the west, though it doesn't stand as high as this one. Beyond the stone walls, though, as high up as I am I can see leagues and leagues of the countryside, all the way until the faraway mountains obstruct my view. I am struck with a sudden feeling of homesickness as I take in the mountain scenery. It's like having home within my grasp yet I am unable to return.

"It is good to have you back, Princess," Naslund says with a happy smile. "The boys just don't have the same effect on the King. Don't get me wrong, Thor is everything Odin could ask for in a son, but trust me, as a father I should know, no one sings to a father's heart quite like a daughter."

"Thank you for your words, and your thoughtfulness in choosing my rooms, I am quite pleased," I say, setting my jaw. "But you of all here should know I will not take that title. Lady, yes, okay, but never Princess. And as Odin is not my father in any way, shape or form, I am sure I do not have the effect on him that your daughter has on you. Odin and I have an entirely different agreement."

"Well, however he feels, it was a wise choice on his part to bring you here. You have always had a fair eye for judgment. And maybe a sisterly feel is all Loki needs, eh?"

"I am _not_ at all sisterly towards the traitor. In case you didn't notice, he just tried to take over my native planet. I will have nothing to do with that sorry excuse for a god."

Naslund gives a little shrug, as if to agree. "Can't blame you for that, I guess. Council meets at sunrise tomorrow so it's best to wait until tomorrow evening to meet with old friends, should you decide to socialize." He pauses in the doorway. "Oh, and as for Thor," he adds, "I know you two, at least, get along. I made sure he has rooms within the same tower. He is two flights down the stairs, should you like to visit at some juncture."

"Thank you, Naslund," I say as he swings the door shut.


	4. A Single Voice

I awake about an hour before dawn and take my time getting ready. It's best for all involved if I am given time alone to properly wake up in the morning. I don a plain gray cotton dress with eye-catching cerulean blue designs and begin to comb out my hair, long golden locks so full of tangles it brings tears to my eyes. My father's hair was pin-straight, and so I've always cursed my mother for the curls, whoever she is.

Finished torturing myself for now, I swipe on some makeup and slip on my black leather boots. I don't see any other shoes to wear and assume I can wear what I want.

I am staring out the window when the knock sounds on the door. "Come in," I call, rising to my feet. Both Naslund and Thor stand in the doorway, dressed in court finery. I marvel at how Thor's colours of red and gold compliment his features. "Good morning." The two repeat the greeting before Naslund clears his throat.

"The trial is to start shortly," Naslund says. "I will escort you down to the great hall."

I move to join the small group and as I get closer, I realize that Thor looks unusually pale. I look away, embarrassed to so easily read his emotions. Of course he is torn; even I know that he and Loki were inseparable as children.

I walk alongside the two men and we retrace yesterday's steps until we are once again in the great hall. Many other gods are seated around the throne; to All-father Odin's right is Frigga, Goddess-Queen. Several other chairs close to Odin are already filled, and I recognize most of the faces to be Odin's other children: Tyr, Hermod, Balder, Vidar, and two empty chairs, presumably for Thor and, at one time, Loki.

Other familiar faces are nearby. People who knew Loki all his life, like the Warriors Three and Sif are present, as well as many of the other high-ranking gods and goddesses.

Upon our entrance, Odin addresses us. "Thor, your place is as always. Lady Angelia, you may take the seat next to him. Hurry, now, so we may begin."

I follow Thor up the aisle and take the allotted seat in the heart of the jury. I am surprised at my prominent position; the closer to the throne you sit, the higher your rank. As a human, I wasn't even expecting to be within hearing distance of the King.

"We are gathered here today to decide the fate of one of our own," he starts somberly. "Loki Laufeyson is to be tried for treason. In taking the throne in Jotunheim and leading an army against the Midland realm, the man in question has gone against Asgard's rule of peace and thusly committed an unprecedented act of treason. All will have the chance to voice their opinions, before court adjourns for the day. Three days from now, all in this room will meet again to vote on the final verdict. All in agreement?"

Choruses of 'aye' from around the room settle the schedule.

"Good," the All-father says, finalizing the choice. "As ruler of Asgard I will speak first. Though it grieves me to cast judgment upon one I have raised as my own, in my mind the consequence of treason is the same as always. I would suggest execution for treason, as we've decided for many before today."

The crowd murmurs, some in surprise but most in agreement and respect for the king's opinion. The voices around the room begin to voice their assent. "Even a prince must be held to the same standards as the people. I concur," Naslund says. Odin's other sons one by one murmur assent.

When it comes time for Thor to speak, he nods and clears his throat, though he says nothing. Many others in the crowd speak up and as I listen I am surprised to find myself getting angry. I don't notice when the room falls silent and Odin's voice rings across the room.

"Lady Angelia," he says patiently. I jump, jolted out of my thoughts by his booming voice. "Perhaps you would like to have a say? The look on your face would suggest so."

Sure enough, I realized my mouth was set in a thin line, matching the way my eyes had narrowed. I open my mouth to tell him I knew too little to argue with the council, but I find I can't simply agree with the rest. I stand and turn away from the crowd, instead facing Odin.

"Little as it may mean," I say, looking up into the King's good eye. "I do have an opinion." I hold his gaze in a challenge, as if to prove that no human could truly count in a court of gods. When he doesn't reply, I turn and face the room.

"I believe you are all wrong." I pause and can hear my own heart beating. Not a single person moves in the entire room. I push on, knowing that if I stop talking I won't have the courage to continue.

"You are willing to kill one of your own because he turned out exactly as you raised him to be. His whole life, every single one of you in this room, in some way, treated him as an outsider. Every time you judged him for what he is – and yes, I have been doing my homework, he is no more a god than I – every time you treated him with a caution you didn't treat Thor with, you brought him closer to this day. Tell me, Asgard, what happens when a child grows up being treated differently than other children, judged more harshly, regarded with any number of emotions you felt about the little snow giant growing up among princes – fear, disdain, indifference, you brought him closer to this day. A child who is never given love – the unconditional love you all were incapable of – will never love unconditionally.

"You all rewarded Thor's good behavior and looked upon Loki's with distrust. After all, how could a frost giant grow up good? Does a frost giant who has grown up believing itself to be part of another race, raised by people who love it really adapt the same violent tendencies as its kin? I don't believe that is the case. Behavior is learned, not inherited." I turn back to face the All-father.

"I've seen much the same thing happen back home. Parents neglect and abuse children and the children grow up troubled and become murderers, or join gangs. Is it the fault of the child or the parent? If a dog is abused as a puppy is it at fault for attacking the very people who beat it once it grows strong enough to defend itself? Where is the blame to be laid?"

"I don't know what the right decision here is," I say, flicking my gaze across Loki's adoptive brothers. "Only that to euthanize the beaten dog is the most sick, twisted kind of mockery there is."

I sit back down quickly, heart racing. I, an insignificant human who wasn't even around to witness most of the relevant events in the past, have just defied Odin by challenging his decision. And then called that same decision sick and twisted.

The dead silence in the room doesn't last long, and soon everyone is trying to yell over each other, voices becoming louder and angrier until I cannot even hear myself think. I am surprised that the King hasn't interjected, until a loud clang rings through the air, the force of it vibrating every chair in the room. The sound cuts across the arguing and silences the room, although my inferior human ears are momentarily deafened as the vibrations wreak havoc on their way through my eardrums. I look around, thankful my eyes aren't affected by the clamour, and see at once that the horrible clanging was caused by Thor's hammer meeting the arm of his chair, effectively cleaving it from the golden seat. I meet Thor's gaze. He looks torn, likely because he believes death to be his brother's fate but seeing the small chance for another outcome.

It is only seconds before I begin to hear Odin's voice, sovereign among the jury. A few still murmur in the back but all eyes are on their King.

"And so, the same decision stands. Three days from now we will adjourn and make a decision. Any other suggestions for a sentence will be heard by me before that date."

With that, he stands and exits the room, followed closely by Frigga. The rest of the room erupts in chaotic arguing again and I make my escape, fearing many in the crowd will be, to say the least, angry with my rebellious words.

I move purposely down the corridor and out into the fresh air. Planning on losing myself in the city's splendour, I am surprised to feel a feminine hand clamp down on my shoulder.

"I didn't think you would ever show your face in the realm again," she says. Hearing the voice, I tense and turn around to face her.

"I didn't think you'd be the first to welcome me back, either. Yet here we are."

Sif laughs in derision, shaking loose her silky black hair. "I'd hardly call it a welcome."


	5. Aftermath

"Well," I say, stepping back far enough for her hand to slide off my shoulder. "That's hardly the way to speak to a guest."

"Puh-lease," she enunciates. The way she keeps shaking her hair only serves to make me self-conscious of my own blonde curls with the tendency to tangle into a childish mess. Her own locks were as different as possible, blessing her with pin-straight hair and a colour opposite of mine and much more alluring. "You're no guest, just another Asgardian parading as something else. No wonder you said all you did today. You're no different from him, _Angel_."

"You don't know what you're talking about," I retort. I take a step, intending to walk away.

"Hey!" Sif shouts, stopping me in my tracks. "I want to know. What made you stand up for Loki back there? You never even met him before yesterday."

I pause just long enough to reply over my shoulder. "Maybe not," I reply, "but I've met every two-faced person in that room."

I don't notice until I turn left two streets later that Sif has followed in silence, only a couple paces behind.

"What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?" I ask, eyes still on the road.

"You're the one who thought I should treat guests better."

"And I thought you didn't think I was a guest, so you can head back to the castle with a clear conscience." I nudge my way through a throng of people blocking the street.

"You're not," she agrees, pulling up alongside me. "Technically, you're as much a member of the royal family as Loki is. Was. When your weakling human father died, for whatever reason he had, Odin adopted you into the family."

"Well, I didn't adopt them as my family," I retort. "As soon as I was of age, I left. I swore then and I'll swear now that I don't belong here in Fantasyland."

"I always knew we would agree on something someday. Although I thought after the way you threw yourself into our politics today you might've changed your mind."

"All I did was state an opinion when asked. I didn't choose to become involved."

"Maybe you couldn't help it, but you chose to offer a different perspective. Agreeing with a death sentence would have been choosing not to become involved. I think some part of you knows you're as much a part of Asgard as anyone."

I turn to face her with an argument, only to find she's disappeared. I hate how she always has to have the last word.

Finally alone, I turn again and the river comes into view. Where there once was a large golden dome holding the Portal, the skyline is now clear, blue as far as the eye can see.

I walk down the path across the water, so lost in thought that I am surprised when I reach the end of the road. Unwilling to return to the castle just yet, I sit on the jagged edge of the road, the end of the line. Hours pass, and the sun makes its way across the broad expanse of sky, readying itself to settle in the sky beyond the waterfall. I stretch my arms feel my elbow graze something.

"How long have you been sitting here?" I ask, turning to see Thor sitting on the edge beside me.

"Long enough for you to have noticed, I'd think," he replies, squinting his eyes in response to the setting rays of sunlight. "You haven't been working with your abilities in Midgard, have you?"

"I've been busy with other training," I say defensively. "To fend for oneself in the mountains, you must be strong. Something you should know I've always struggled with."

"Everyone struggles with something," he says sagely. "The trick is to improve your skills and work on your weaknesses at the same time. Just as with everything, there needs to be balance."

"Well then it will be interesting to see how your father balances the trial, with such different choices," I say, kicking my legs back and forth like a child.

"Not everything balances," he admits. "In a perfect world it would, but even the world of the gods has it imperfections."

"I didn't expect all the arguing back there," I say. Considering every person in that room had vied for an execution moments before I spoke, it came as a surprise that they were shouting at each other and not just at me.

"You have a way of appealing to people," he replies. "You make people see that there's not just black and white, but gray as well."

"Sometimes it takes someone on the outside to see the bigger picture."

Thor makes an almost tortured sound and clears his throat. "Even I couldn't see another choice. His own brother, and I would have sentenced him to death. I only wish that I could have had your words. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like such a monster." His words are gruff with emotion, and I can literally feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves.

"It's not like he's completely innocent here," I say, scooting a little closer to him. We'd been so close years ago when I was first brought here. I didn't like the awkward rift that had grown so quickly. "No one told him to destroy New York, or kill what was probably hundreds of innocent people. He has to answer for that, too."

"I've missed this," he says suddenly, changing the subject. "There's no one better to bounce thoughts off of."

"And here I was expecting you to say, 'there's no one easier to bounce punches off of.'" I say it lightly, not wanting to admit to him that I'd missed this, too.

"If that's how you feel, you do have the next two days of waiting around ahead of you," he says, once he stops laughing. "I could torture you with training if you have nothing better to do."

I groan, though more for show than anything. I knew that for all my training in the mountains, I had progressed much faster among the gods. "If I must," I say, forcing a sigh.

"Best be ready at dawn tomorrow, then. I start early." Thor stands, shaking out his red cape with a brusque movement in his shoulders.

This time, I groan for real.

I sit there watching until the sun dips out of sight, then make my way back through the city by the last faint glow in the western sky. I walk past the banquet hall, where people are still feasting and climb the stairs up to my room.

For no reason other than curiosity, I flick my wrist to see if I still possess the power to do so. I am well-satisfied when the doorknob turns on its own and the door swings open to allow me through.


	6. Put In Place

I dress the next morning more comfortably; high-quality workout gear, tailored especially for me in what I am starting to believe is regarded as my signature blue.

I am not feeling good-natured towards Thor when I meet him out in the yard as the sun comes up. I amuse myself thinking this to be an 'ungodly' hour to be up.

"Well then," he says, coming to a halt just ahead of me, dressed in the usual red and gold. "You have two options today. If you like them both, do not fret. The other lesson I will save for tomorrow. Would you rather start with some endurance training or delve a little into the techniques of battle?"

"Techniques sound a little less strenuous," I say, knowing well that endurance to a god could kill a mere human.

He feints a strike at me without another word and I sloppily move to block it, having been caught off-guard. Abandoning his first move he ducks low, aiming for my midsection. I am too offset by his range of motion that I miss my next block entirely and with a thud I land on my backside, wind sucked out of my lungs. I lay on the ground, gasping pitifully, as he extends a hand to help me up.

"You may need more than a mere day," he chuckles.

Yet for all his talk, the answering jab makes its way to the intended target.

x

The sun has set by the time Thor lets me retire to my rooms and I am so sore I don't think I'll make it up all the stairs. I don't even let myself think about how I'll feel tomorrow when Thor puts me through whatever he's cooked up.

I enter the hall with my head drooping towards the ground and don't bother to keep alert for nearby people. As a result, I find myself plowing right into Queen Frigga, like an incompetent oaf. "My Lady, I say, steadying her arm before I fall into a deep, apologetic curtsy, "Forgive me, I've been careless and I am shamed by my carelessness."

"It is quite alright," she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Truth be told, I have done that very thing before. I must say, Lady Angelia of Midgard, it is a delight for us to once again host you here in the castle. We would be pleased if you would stay past the end of the trial, though we do not wish to pressure you."

"You don't have to call me by a title, my Queen," I reply, rising (thankfully) gracefully to my feet. "Just Angelia is fine. As for staying, I don't know how long it will be before I go home, but I will very much enjoy my time here knowing that it pleases your Grace."

She smiles and I notice once again, as I always do, that her hair, as curly as mine, seems to stay firmly in place, where mine is no doubt reaching for the sky in loose, wispy tendrils as we speak. "I noticed you did not attend dinner last night. I just want to ensure that you know you are more than welcome to join us."

"Thank you," I say simply. Frigga is already making her way towards the courtyard doors when I call after her. "Your Grace!" She stops and turns, the tilt of her head questioning me. "I was just wondering," I begin, feeling foolish for calling her back over such a trivial manner. "I was wondering, how _do_ you keep your hair so perfectly in place?"

"'Tis a serum, made from the golden apples of Idunn, by my own hands. It takes a very personal balance to work well," she answers.

I hobble back to my room with no further interruptions, and after eating a meal brought up by one of Naslund's underlings, I fall asleep immediately, into a dark, dreamless subconscious state.

x

"Do not think I am such an easy taskmaster that you may spend the morning in bed."

Thor's voice, so close to my ear startles me awake and I jump into a sitting position, narrowly missing his head with my own. I clutch the blanket close, remembering in time that I chose to wear nothing to bed last night.

"Jesus!" I swear, shooting Thor my darkest look. "The sun must have risen all of ten minutes ago. Give me a break!"

"If you are not standing beside me in the yard in fifteen, Angel, I will work you till sunset again!"

"It's a fifteen minute jog out there, how am I supposed to manage to dress?" I ask, exasperated.

"Fourteen, now," he says, shutting the door behind him.

Letting loose a string of expletives, I jump out of bed and quickly dress in the same style of gear as yesterday. I don't attempt to brush through my mass of hair unless it's wet, and since I don't have time to shower I put it up in what passes as a messy bun, tendrils that I don't have time to round up fly loose.

I slip on my boots as I open the door and take off down the stairs, flying down two at a time with one hand on the golden wall for balance. Early visitors to the castle, as well as a couple of Thor's brothers, watch me in puzzlement as I fly down the halls, skittering around corners.

By the time I reach Thor, I have a hitch in my breathing and would gladly call that endurance training, but he glances at the sun's position.

"Unfortunately for you," he says, "You are late. Had you been here three minutes earlier, you might've had some spare time this evening."

"If you had been reasonable, I would have spare time," I correct, taking a deep breath.

"If you would have been out here at sunrise as planned, we would not be standing here arguing. I have set up a track through the city. Sif went out and this morning and marked checkpoints with magic. If you keep your mind open as you should, there will be no problem in meeting me back here in an hour."

I should have known it would be more than a simple run. The first time I came to Asgard, Odin bestowed me with several gifts of talents, such as an enhanced ability to read the emotions of others, as well as the ability to track trails of magic. Thor is the only other one who knows, and I find I am not particularly surprised to find he incorporated even that into training.

I take off, throwing out a subconscious net, feeling for the first marker. I sense a magic hotspot straight ahead, nowhere near the boundary of my senses. How hard can this be?

Nearly two hours later, I am at a crawling pace when I wheeze my way back into the castle yard. I didn't realize how rusty I was at detecting magic until the space between the trial markers began to increase, causing me to lose my way more than once.

I come to a stop in front of Thor, who has taken a seat on the steps.

He shakes his head. "Until you can master the course in under an hour, you may not rest."

I sigh but get ready to go again. The second time through will be easier, since I already know where the markers are.

"Oh," he says, as somewhat of an afterthought, "this time you will be looking for markers laced with Naslund's magic."

x

Even though I complete the task the second time around, Thor refuses to let up on the training. He stubbornly insists that I was late this morning and so we continue, switching to working on upper and lower body strength.

The sun is setting when Thor's brother Balder approaches us. "Father would like for you to be present at tonight's banquet," he announces. "Both of you, so I would suggest my Lady throws in the towel for tonight and retires to her rooms and…cleans up."

Considering how I looked before I spent all day sweating, I grimace at his remark. Before Thor has the chance to detain me, I turn and follow Balder up into the castle.

"Do not mistake my words for dislike," he says, avoiding my eyes. "But you should not be here. For all the gods' pretense that any threat has died with Loki's capture, it is far from the truth. The realms are on the verge of the greatest war in history, and it is no longer safe here. You are not a warrior; you are of no use in a war and there is no reason for you to sit and wait in danger's path."

This is news to me. The past two days that I've spent in Asgard, not a single person has mentioned a remaining war threat. "Trust me," I say, somewhat defensive over being called useless, whether it's true or not. "The moment trial ends tomorrow I plan on leaving, don't worry about the weak little human getting in your way of glory."

"You misunderstand-" he protests, but I shrug him off and pick up my pace, leaving him far behind. Odin has always been wrong to think I belong in Asgard among his family. There is no room for a human in the presence of the glory of gods.


	7. Official Position

I take a more leisurely shower than normal, but the hot water pouring over aching muscles feels too good to rush. I towel off and take a brush to my hair, the birds' nest of tangles bringing tears to my eyes. I make a mental note to find a way to obtain some golden apples, a fruit not easily obtained by humans.

When I step out of the bathroom the new gown is the first thing I notice is the gown laying across the sofa in the sitting room. Made entirely of crystals, the dress is stunning, the gold of the room setting off the silver majority of the dress. Strapless, the top of the dress rests low on my chest, and is a mixture of differing blue crystals that gradually peter out to silver, trailing down one hip to give the dress a flattering asymmetrical look. The shape of the gown is different from the modest ball gowns I was given years ago. Apparently, someone has noticed I am no longer a child, for the gown hugs my body in an almost scandalous way.

I'm surprised when the piece fits perfectly, especially since I know I've filled out quite impressively since I was last here as a scrawny teenager. I am impressed that the king's seamstresses have altered the measurements from years back to fit a completely different body.

Near the door, I find a pair of silver heels set with smaller crystals fixated to thin straps that weave in an intricate pattern across the top of the shoe. I can't help but feel impressed when I slip them on and not only do they fit perfectly, they add a good four inches to my average height of six and a half feet. Perhaps the gods elevated my shoe so I could avoid a kink in my neck from craning my head to look at them.

I feel like I am the star in a Hollywood movie scene as I descend the stairs, throwing my shoulders back regally. It is a good feeling, until I reach the bottom and quickly realize that no matter how stunning I think myself, all the crystals in Asgard won't give me the look of a goddess in formalwear.

Yet I must look quite a bit different than usual, as Balder and one of his brothers stop in their tracks as they see me. "Lady Angelia," they greet me, each kissing a hand. "Might we escort you to the banquet?" I haven't ever been particularly friendly with either man, and because of their convenient location when I appeared, I chalk their presence up to an order from Naslund.

"Thank you," I say, adopting a formal tone, "but I do believe this is one situation where I may just be useful enough to escort myself."

Balder is gracious enough to make an embarrassed noise of protest, but I am already sweeping past them, enjoying the airy feeling of an extra four inches. I only stumble once in the procession to the hall, and considering my history with heels, I consider it a success.

Thor appears just in time to support my arm, keeping me on my feet. "I can hardly tell that mere hours ago, you looked as ghastly as a pith." I debate stepping on his foot for comparing me to a species similar to Earth's rat, but knowing him, he'd simply move his foot before I could, anyway. "I hadn't noticed before now, but you've changed more than I gave you credit for. Little angel is a child no longer."

"I had to grow up sometime," I say, deflecting the comment. I catch the eyes of several people I know as we enter the room, and I am gratified by the double takes, until I catch Sif's eye. She is dressed in a simple black garment, and I find she is still more striking than I am. I don't understand right away why she is shooting me daggers, until I remember whose arm I walked in on. Of course.

Before any trouble can come of it, I move away from Thor and take the seat Naslund is motioning me towards. Much to my chagrin, and much more to Sif's, Naslund seats Thor beside me. I make polite conversation with the gods and goddesses seated nearby, until Odin, at the head of the table, taps his staff against the floor.

"Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters," he says, voice resonating powerfully. I study the patch covering his right eye. "In celebration of the recent return of Lady Angelia, adopted daughter of Asgard and myself, I would like to dedicate tonight's celebrations to the return of my daughter."

There is a polite smattering of applause and I can feel my neck crawling as every face in the room turns to regard me.

"And!" he continues, shattering my hopes that the moment was over. "I wish also to bestow upon her, a gift. He stands, motioning for Naslund to follow him as he settles himself behind my chair. The tingling feeling turns into a burn. I stand, knowing it is what is expected of me.

"As of this moment, all of my children have been gifted with capes in signature colours, as is the tradition. Odetta Angelia Rosa Langeis, will you accept this gift, as well as the name, Friggasdotter, and all they entail?"

I nod, knowing it would disgrace not only me but every royal in the room if I refused. "It would be an honour."

And so the All-father takes the length of heavy fabric, made ironically of a strangely shimmery royal blue hue, from Naslund and ceremoniously drapes it across my shoulders, fastening the dazzling silver jewelled clasp at my neck. He takes the liberty of fluffing my hair out from under the fabric and places his hand solidly on my shoulder, guiding me around until we stand face to face.

Four inches isn't enough to bring me up to Odin's height so I tilt my head up, meeting his eye. "The honour is all mine," he says, so softly only I can hear. He returns to his seat and raises a hand, motioning for people to start with their meals. "Eat and drink merrily, in celebration of the day the house of Odin gained a daughter!"

Thor claps my back in a rough show of approval and I am glad he is nearby, in the sea of faces who watch me for the rest of the meal.

x

Several hours later, I make my escape, excusing myself from the mostly-full room. I stumble out of the castle, clearly drunk on the powerful liquor of the gods. I wander through the smaller streets leading out of the city.

"And so many sing of its beauty by day," Thor says, coming to a stop beside me, at the edge of the old Bifrost bridge. I hadn't realized he followed me from the banquet.

I murmur an agreement, the sight that normally takes my breath away rendering me speechless in my drunken state. The way the sunlight reflects the colours of the rainbow in the day is nothing compared to the softer, shimmery glow it gives off by moonlight. The colours shine less brightly, but in the dark of the night, they stand out in a way the sun would never allow them to.

I step out of my impractical shoes and take off across the smooth, shiny surface, slippery with dew. I slip once, twice, a third time, each time finding it funnier. Behind me I hear Thor roar with amusement as I nearly go down a fourth time, but he is going too fast and loses to gravity. Sliding forward faster than I am running, he cuts my legs out from under me, and we both slide the rest of the bridge's length.

For one sobering moment, I no longer feel the crystal sliding against my skin, only air. Then, I am flying upwards and backwards onto the edge once more, as Thor catches my flailing hand and swings me back to safety.

Shocked, I pause, kneeling on the cold surface, staring with wide eyes at Thor, who is crouching about a foot away on the very end of the bridge. We stare at each other a moment, and then that is the end of sobriety and we let loose with gales of laughter, the God of Thunder vastly louder than I.

x

We sit clumsily, for even Thor has had enough of the strong Asgard liquor to affect him, and dangle our feet over the edge. We lay back against the cool, glowing surface and watch the sky.

I don't know how long we lay like that, lost in thought, when we both turn to look at each other and with an unfocused gaze Thor confides quietly, "I cannot tell if I am glad you look nothing like her or if I am sorry for it."

Tears instantly well up and I choke out, "Don't do this to yourself, Thor. Don't do it to me."

"I ask myself, every day when I wake up and remember that she is gone, if I could've changed it," he continues, voice breaking. "If I had only been there when she needed me. I was so close, Angel, _so close!"_

I am already scrambling to my feet. "You couldn't have changed anything, Thor. You would most likely be dead as well. You have to let her go."

Suddenly he is standing, too and grabs at my wrist. "I am to let her go, yet you do not? I never figured you to be a hypocrite."

"You don't know what it feels like to lose a sibling!" I yell, emotion raging through me.

Thor lets go of my arm, a cool edge to his tone. "Don't I?" he asks, his expression broken.

A sob wracks my entire body and I do what I normally do when faced with any strong emotion – I run. I run all the way back down the bridge without stumbling once, pausing only to retrieve the shoes, though I don't waste time putting them back on. Clutching them in my hand, I keep going, wasting no time looking back for Thor.

I run past into the city streets and wind my way through alleys to the castle. With my emotions barely in check, I decide against heading straight for my rooms and instead I find myself walking in the opposite direction down the passageway.

Since I am running in the opposite direction of my rooms, I figure I might as well climb in the opposite direction and head downwards at the end of the hall. I wander down below for a while and soon come to a small room of gold, at the bottom of the castle. Noting my new cape and the meaning of such a gift, the two guards positioned at the bottom of the stairwell give me no trouble and I pass by them as if they aren't even there.

Across from the stairs, the room leads on by means of a hallway, as gold as the rest of the castle, though somehow darker. I move silently with my bare feet down the rocky path, and it isn't until the end that I realize where I am.

Inadvertently, I've located the cube that played such a key role in recent events: feet ahead of me I behold the Tesseract, mounted regally on a pedestal. Enchanted, I move closer, mesmerised by the cool blue glow lighting the hall.

"I wouldn't touch that," someone says. I spin around, looking for the source of the voice. "The All-father doesn't take kindly to outsiders touching that."

I look around again, so fast I find myself dizzy. "Who's there?" I call, slurring my words.

"It is I," the voice says, letting out a gleeful little laugh. "Only the most-talked about god at the moment." I hear a clapping sound, then the cage that once held the Destroyer lights up, revealing a ragged man dressed all in black.

"Loki Laufeyson," I say. I am finding when I speak slower I sound almost sober. His attire is missing the signature green, his own royal colour.

"Of course. Who else would I be?" He stands and walks to the edge of his cell. "But you, I don't know."


	8. The Jury

We stand there for a long moment as I take in this turn of events. "But you do," I finally correct. "Thor introduced us days ago. Angelia, Loki. Loki, Angelia. I believe that about sums it up."

"That doesn't explain why you are here, a pitiful human parading around with the gods. Even in all that finery you wear cannot disguise your fragile humanity. Tell me, little human, what brings you to my dungeon?"

"I didn't know you were anywhere but the dungeons. As for what brought me here, that is none of your business." I cross my arms in front of my chest, narrowing my eyes at him.

"You look upset, little human. Had a bit of a fallout with your golden boyfriend, my dear brother?"

"You obviously have no idea how my relationship with Thor works," I retort, stumbling a little over the words. "And before you ask, it's none of your business, anyway." Realizing I am a little too outspoken for my own good, I turn to leave. Even drunk, I know when enough is enough.

"All I want to know is why," Loki says, obviously not as familiar with the term 'enough.'

I turn halfway back, watching him over my shoulder. "Why?"

"Yes, why. Why would you speak against the jury, pleading for someone you don't even know?" The green of his eyes unsettles me, and I consider fleeing as I realize my heart is hammering.

"I would hardly say I pled," I defend. "I merely pointed out a flaw in their logic."

"Don't lie to me, girl," he growls. "You would expect the very God of Mischief, Prince of Lies, the Son of Secrets. This is personal."

"Not so much personal on a personal level," I argue. "It's personal on a fundamental level. You aren't figured into the equation." I step closer in an effort to drive the message home. Inches away, I continue, "Satan himself could be on trial and I would vie for a fair verdict. Don't flatter yourself."

"Even if that is so, Satan couldn't make you rethink trial at all with a single touch." He reaches his hand out, barely managing to slip it through the bars on the door and reach for my wrist. With my temporarily slow reflexes, I jerk my hand away a second too slowly, feeling his palm graze my skin for a split second, leaving a cold, fiery feeling on my skin. Holding my hand close to my chest, I pause for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand.

"So how 'bout that," he says softly, eyes flickering up and down my body.

I turn and run back down the hallway, not caring about how weak I look, running away. I slow down when the guards come into view, not wanting to raise their suspicion. I make my way up the staircase, and all the way up to my rooms.

It isn't until I shut the door and stop for a moment that I realize I am violently shaking. 

The mood in the castle is tense the next morning. I can almost get lost in all the loud, conflicting emotions I read off of people on my way down to the great hall. Even people not involved in the court today are lingering outside the room, no doubt ready to spread the news of the traitor's death with the city. If execution is the choice of the council today, Loki will be immediately killed.

I meet Thor in the doorway, having come from opposite ends of the castle. I vaguely remember Naslund telling me that Thor's rooms were in the same tower as mine, and I wonder where he was off to so early in the morning. Wherever he's been, it hasn't been good. His complexion, normally tanned and healthy looks today more pale than I've ever seen him, his skin sallow and eyes haunted.

"Princess Angelia," he says, as if he hasn't noticed me among the faces until we pass through the doors together. "I would like to issue an apology. About last night-"

I hastily cut him off, as Sif is standing within earshot. "Cut the crap," I interject. "Since when are we formal with each other? None of this Princess bullshit, you of all people should know I only tolerate 'Lady' because it's better than _that_. Honestly, I am neither. And as for an apology, save your breath; As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to forgive."

"Do you not realize that 'Princess' is now your formal title? Last night's banquet was somewhat of an impromptu coronation. Now that you are officially one of us, you may cast your ballot today with the rest. Welcome to the family."

"Yes, welcome," Sif says, sidling up to join the conversation. There's no doubt in my mind that she sees this as a way to keep me from sinking my claws into her crush, as if I even wanted to.

Before I am faced with having to make small-talk with Sif, I am jostled from behind by someone. Balder. I give him a hard look but refrain from verbal offense. Many others around us are taking seats and so I return to mine in among the royal family. It's only when the crowd begins to settle that I notice there are far fewer people present today than there was three days ago. The actual voting must be made by the higher ranking gods, while the general populace can voice an opinion only.

"Asgard," Odin begins, his voice rising over the remaining chatter. "We gather here today to decide the fate of one of our own. While it may seem like an obvious decision – execution in the face of treason – we have been presented with another choice. As you all remember, one young girl stood alone in defense of that man, a man she had never even met.

"It has dawned on me that such a noble action demonstrates a pure and courageous heart and strong mind. It is from this realization that another option is born. I propose this – Loki Laufeyson is to be given a year to change his heart and swear fealty to our side. Princess Angelia will spend a portion on every day working towards this goal. At the end of the year, should Loki renounce our efforts to spare him, standard treason protocol is to be followed, no second trial necessary."

"But, my king-" someone protests in the back.

"Silence!" Odin yells, bringing his scepter down upon the floor.

I hardly notice this, nor do I register the uproar of voices filling the room. For the first time I almost wish they would execute a man I believe to be innocent, at least in part. Better that than to have anything to do with such an evil person, for whether Loki is at fault for his upbringing or not, he is evil now. All I have to do to convince myself is think back to last night.

"Silence! Si-_lence_!" with the last word, he points the tip of his scepter at the crowd, and immediately there is silence indeed, though not because people are ready to calm. Odin has muted the protestors, and though their lips still move, not a one can be heard.

"We will put it to a vote, then," he says, calm once again. Another flick of the scepter and ballots fly across the room, landing in front of every god present.

There are two options on the paper, _Execution_ at the top, _Redemption _written in just below. Given no writing tool, I look to Odin for guidance and witness him pull out a small blade. With one deft movement, he cuts open the vein in his wrist, and immediately blood pours down. He takes his uninjured hand and dips a finger in the blood, imprinting with bloody ink over his choice. He silently passes the blade to Frigga, who daintily punctures her left index finger, waiting a moment for the blood to pool up to the surface before pressing it to the corresponding finger on her right hand. She, too makes a choice and passes it on.

Thor signs quickly, cutting a thinner slit into his wrist. Each of the other princes in turn do the same, though they take longer to deliberate. Then the blade is passed to me. I don't understand the ritual; do women only poke the finger, or is it a personal choice? Do you sign with your dominant hand or is it always the right, whether you're left handed? Being left-handed I find the last question especially to be important. If only I was closer to the end and had more time to study the way other gods signed.

Taking a deep breath, I drag the knife along my right wrist, not wanting to wait for a dainty prick to the finger to bleed. I cover my finger in my own ink and pause, hand hovering over the paper. There are two very different arguments waging war inside my mind: choose the right answer or choose the option that doesn't trap me here for a year, forced to spend time with _him_.

At last I bring my hand down on the paper, not sure if I've made the right choice. I barely notice the mannerisms of the gods, stuck so deep in my own mind I cannot tell who deliberates and who signs immediately.

When the last one has signed, the blade flies back across the room to land in Odin's hand, followed quickly by the ballots. "Court is adjourned until nightfall," he announces. "In the meanwhile, ballots will be counted, and one man's fate will be decided."

I work my way through the crowd, searching for one face in particular, a face I know was here somewhere only moments ago. Giving up as I realize he is no longer in the room, I push my way through the door, breaking into a run once there's room to. I retrace my steps from the day I returned, winding through the underground passages. I reach the spot where the Gatekeeper met us three days ago, but he isn't here. I resurface aboveground and find my feet following a default pattern, winding through the city.

I watch my feet cross the ground in large strides, not looking up even as the ground transitions from gleaming gold to a glistening rainbow of crystals. I am nearing the halfway point along the bridge when I look up, noting for the first time that someone has beaten me to my spot. A tall figure stands at the end of the old bridge. The sun, already beginning its slow descent into the horizon conceals the man's identity in a silhouette of shadows.

Yet judging by the man's stance, I think I know who he is. He doesn't react as I walk up and stop beside him, though I know he has sensed my presence from farther than I sensed his.

"What do you see?" I ask him, gazing out into the starry scene.

The Gatekeeper gives a soft sound of frustration. "Not as much as I used to, and too much that I don't understand. And always so much darkness."

His words send shivers up and down my spine as he continues, his voice a slightly different pitch than before. "Unless all Odin's children pull together and take a stand, the darkness will win, A year from now, more or less, Asgard will be dragged into the greatest war it's ever seen. If even one child defects to the dark side, the darkness will swallow us up, and this land will be waste within two."

"No one can know that for sure," I argue, trying to brush off the strange tone he spoke in.

"Ah, but I have seen it," he says with certainty. "Come, Princess. We don't want to miss the King's verdict."

He turns and begins the walk back to the castle. I don't follow immediately; instead, I remain on the edge of the world, as I've come to think of it, looking out into the realms, trying to see the threatening darkness the Gatekeeper spoke of.


	9. A Verdict

"…and with that, I proclaim trial to be over." Odin taps the scepter on the floor, much the way a human judge hits the gavel to signify the end of a court case.

I can tell the jury was divided; many of the gods who file out leave their emotions plain on their face, though they voice them no longer. There was no uproar like there was earlier; it was as if they simply accepted the decision that had been made and saw no further point in arguing with each other.

I make no move to leave, shocked into stillness by the results of the trial. Considering that every single man and woman who had appeared in court that first day had unanimously agreed on Loki's death, the result of it all quite honestly came as a surprise to me, and not an altogether pleasant one.

"Angelia, if you would stay a moment." I nod to Odin, though I had no plan of escaping.

"We need to discuss the parameters of the situation," he says once the room has cleared. I stand and fidget in front of the King.

"Every day for the next year, you are to spend twelve hours of your day with Loki."

"Four," I bargain. For a moment the All-father looks almost angry that I would disobey, but rather than punishing me, he just sighs.

"Eight. The other four will be spent in training with Thor. You are so undertrained it is laughable. If we go to war you will not stand a chance against the weakest of frost giants." It doesn't come as a surprise to me that he is anticipating a war; if the Gatekeeper was willing to tell me of the threat, of course he would have already warned the King.

"Let me spend one full month training before beginning this. You and I both know there's a good chance he will attack anyone if there's a chance he can escape."

Odin's tone leaves no more room for argument. "Starting tomorrow you will begin the regime I laid out for you. I do not expect you to enter his cell the first time you go down there. But when you do, it will be like a wall between you, and until there is a time when you no longer need the barrier, it will appear any time you enter the cell. I will have Naslund teach you how to throw up a barrier of your own in the event you want a barrier back once the one I've constructed is removed."

"And what am I supposed to be doing, exactly?" I ask, somewhat sarcastically. "Finding out his hobbies, favourite colour? Turning him into my new BFF?"

"BFF?" He raises an eyebrow at the term and I wave my hand, in a 'forget it' way. "We need all the strength we can get in preparation for the high likelihood we go into battle. People are greatly influenced by those they spend time with, and gods react in much the same way."

"So I am to convince him to return from the dark side," I say. "Don't you think someone like Thor, who Loki shares such a bond with, might be more effective?"

"No so. The brothers are at such odds right now, I believe it will take many years to reconcile them, if it is even possible. And if there's one thing I've learned throughout the millennia, it is that all men have a soft spot for pretty women."

"Well," I say, pushing away thoughts of last night and the way Loki reached for my hand, "unless they're gay." The King's brow furrows, as though he's unfamiliar with the term.

Choosing to ignore my flippant remark, he dismisses me without another word.

As I am about to open the heavy door to leave, Odin calls out. "Do not think I am doing this just to keep you here. Any time you wish to return home or give up, whether it is tomorrow or eleven months from now, you may. However, if you leave before twelve months is up or before Loki has changed his mind about certain things, it will be as though he has failed to change and he will be executed upon your departure. Just a little food for thought."

Thor is waiting just outside the room and before I can ever process what is happening, I am flying through the air, so fast I can't see anything but a colourful blur passing by.

"Put me down!" I squeal, feeling almost sick with dizziness.

He stops but doesn't let go of me. "Ha!" he shouts, laughing. He plants a jubilant kiss on my lips, leaving me blinking in shock, the world still spinning. "We did it! You did it! Ah, this is _great_ news! Shall we pay my brother a visit and tell him the good news?"

"He may not think it so good," I say, but Thor pays my words no heed and pulls me down the hall after him.


	10. The Little Details

When we come to a stop in front of Loki's cell, he remains seated, face turned towards the back wall of the room.

"Brother," Thor says, smiling. "I bring you good news. You are to live!"

"What kind of a life is it when I am trapped here alone, like a dangerous animal? Tell me brother, what is the good news?"

"Hope, brother," Thor says, less jubilant. "Where there is life, there is hope. Someday you may be free of the bars, free to walk among our people once more."

"They are_ your_ people, not mine. Whether or not I may someday walk among them, they will not walk where I go. These are the same people who want me dead, _brother_, and you among them. Not a one of you spoke for me from the beginning." His tone is cold, though I think I can sense that beneath the front he is maybe more hurt than angry.

"Trust me brother, I am very sorry for that, but it took someone who thinks very differently than myself to find a solution, and for that I humbly ask your forgiveness." Thor hangs his head as Loki brings his up, green eyes snapping.

"I forgive nothing!" He shouts, voice getting louder with each word. "Did you ever think maybe the reason only one person in that whole room could think past killing me was the only one who doesn't know me? The _stupidest_ person in the room thought of your bloody _solution_, an inferior, small-minded human. The weakest form of life."

Thor meets his brother's gaze, bringing his head back up sharply. "Watch your words, brother. By very choice of the King of Asgard, this 'weak' human has been chosen to join into our family."

"Yes, and I can already see why he did so," Loki retorts, nodding at our hands, still joined from our journey down. "Everyone knows you have a weakness for human women, and this way even father can approve."

"I believe I've already told you just how wrong you are about that particular subject," I say, quietly but firmly before Thor can begin yelling.

"You spoke only for yourself, you revolting quim," he retorts, curling his lip into a snarl.

"A pity you find me so revolting," I say with some amusement, "since we will be seeing quite a lot of each other for the next while."

"What?" Loki asks incredulously. Thor takes one look at his brother's face and breaks into hearty laughter.

"Trust me, I am no more thrilled than you are," I respond drily. I slip my hand out of Thor's and turn in anticipation of leaving.

"Oh, but I am _very_ thrilled, little human," he says snidely, breaking into a small, sly grin.

I purposely avoid his gaze, turning instead to Thor before I leave. "See you tomorrow, then," I say and slip out of the room before any more can be said.

.*

It's late enough now that I find I'm the only person wandering the halls, and I'm grateful for the silence that follows me up the staircase, something I haven't had much of in the past few days. Considering all there solitude there was out in the mountains, returning to Asgard has really put into perspective just how alone I was used to being.

I close the door to my rooms and let out a tired sigh, planning to run a bath and relax. It's been a long day and I think some bubble therapy is in order. Until I turn around and take in the room, namely, the man standing in the middle of the room.

"I haven't had a chance to ask, since your coronation the other night," Naslund says, unclasping his hands from behind his back. "Do you go by Princess now, or should I still refer to you as Lady?"

"Lady," I answer, shrugging off my sweater. "And if you don't mind, Naslund, it's been a long day and tomorrow looks to be even longer, so I'd like to get some rest."

"King Odin suggested that you might like to learn to create boundaries, to throw up barriers strong enough to keep a certain prisoner behind them. Since you will have to advance greatly in this talent in order to keep such a skilled magician from breaking through, I thought tonight was the best time to start."

My spirits sink, mentally kissing the hope of a nice long soak goodbye. "Where do we start?" I ask, slipping out of my shoes before crossing the room.

"Casting a barrier isn't hard," Naslund begins, pacing by the window like an old professor, reciting the same lesson for the umpteenth class. "It is maintaining and strengthening the force that gets to magicians. It takes extraordinary concentration to maintain a barrier. Before we work on strengthening yours, we are going to work on concentration."

He moves to one side of the room and pulls a cover off of a painting sitting on an easel.

"This is _Origin_, a painting done by a very distant ancestor of the All-father. I will give you a few moments to study it, and then I will ask you to reproduce the image on paper. The day you can concentrate efficiently enough to perfectly reproduce an image is the day we will move on to actually casting barrier spells."

"You can't be serious," I say, staring in horror at the painting. I feel like I could stare at it for a thousand years and still miss details.

"You're on the clock," he says, noticing I am already studying the drawing. "You have ten minutes."

My eyes fly furiously across the paper, trying to remember all the details of the artwork. I scan from top to bottom, left to right and before I am ready, Naslund covers the painting and hands me a piece of paper and a handful of coloured pencils.

I start with the top left quadrant and fill in all I remember before sketching the top right square. When I'm satisfied that I've done a reasonable good job, I hand the paper to Naslund, who scans it quickly before crumpling it up and throwing it out the window.

"If that was the equivalent of the concentration you could put into a barrier, a first-year student of magic could break through that. A word of advice," he says, "sketch loosely the big picture before focussing on details. I'll be back about this time tomorrow, with a new picture. And make sure you know your colours. None of your shades are right and that's something you should be concentrating on as well."

I groan. "Can't we continue with that picture?"

"Then we aren't working on concentration; this all becomes a matter of memorization, which will get you nowhere. Sleep well, my Lady." Before I can protest further, Naslund gracefully exits the room and I sink into a chair in defeat.

I stare for a moment at the pencils, which Naslund left behind. I note the shades I have and what colours could mix to make them lighter, darker, or more intense. Finally convinced I've studied the palette before me as much as I can, I drag myself to my feet and start a bath.

Moments later, I sigh in content as I sink into almost scalding hot water, laced with perfume. I wash quickly and then take my time relaxing. I can almost feel the kinks of tension loosening in my neck and shoulders. For the first time since Thor and I began my training sessions, I don't feel my muscles burning, though there is a nice tingle in my submerged skin. I've always liked incredibly warm baths, and I close my eyes contentedly, feeling peaceful for the first time since I left my cabin on Earth.

When I open my eyes, I realize by the drastic drop in temperature that I'd fallen asleep. I sit up, about to get out of the bath and into bed when I hear muffled footsteps out in the sitting room. Very slowly I stand and reach for the towel, so the dripping doesn't give me away. I slowly cross the room to the door, walking on tiptoe. I can't hear movement anymore, but I quietly turn the knob anyway, opening the door soundlessly.

There are two very large men rooting through the drawers in a stand by the window. I am alarmed by more than their height, my attention immediately going to their more unusual feature: their skin. I've never seen a god with such skin colour. Usually, they possess the same range of skin tones that the humans do, unless they're like the god of leaves or something and turn themselves green.

These two, however, aren't green; both possess skin that glows an eerie blue in the moonlight. Call me crazy, but the only creatures I've heard of that match their description are the frost giants in Jotunheim. I can't think of a reason for them to be sneaking around Asgard, though, let alone why they'd be in my rooms.

And since I just awoke, I do something I would never do in full control of my senses; I shout at them, causing one to slam a drawer on the other's hand. "You do _not_ have permission to be here!" I yell, trying to look fierce while wrapped in only a towel. My dripping, tangled hair probably doesn't do me any favours.

Whatever they came for, it must not have been to kill me, because as soon as I called, they moved for the door. Again, because I am not thinking straight, I chase after them, trying futilely to reach them before they reach the door. I am still a good few feet away when the door slams shut. I stop and glance around the room, which looks undisturbed, other than one of the drawers being open a few inches.

Whatever they were looking for, I don't think they found it. Though it wouldn't stop someone who really wanted in, I lock the door from the inside and return to the bathroom to detangle my hair. Once that is done, I drop the towel and shrug into a warm, fluffy robe and crawl into bed, though it's a long time before I relax enough to drift back into sleep.


End file.
